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by Hellosunshinemyoldfriend



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24270529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellosunshinemyoldfriend/pseuds/Hellosunshinemyoldfriend
Summary: A glimpse of what happened when James' Mother abandoned him in Derry.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 113





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**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else binge watch Derry Girls in one sitting in the midst of isolation?
> 
> Basically I can't stop thinking about what it would feel like to not only be abandoned by your mother, but abandoned in a place where you're distinctly 'Other' 
> 
> Also its late and I'm avoiding actual work. 
> 
> Enjoy!

At first its easy to pretend that this is some sort long term holiday. An extend trip back to the motherland, to visit the family his mother spends most of her time pretending don't exist. 

Then came the talk of school, and his safety, or lack there of at the local boys school. Then his Mum suggested he just go Michelle's school. 

Michelle's all girl school.

That was harder to ignore. Like it wasn't bad enough that he'd been dragged out of his home, that only one he had ever known, to be here. In this place, that felt so very far from home.

Then his Mother left, without him. 

That hurt.

Not that he could say that out loud. It seemed to him that emotions were frowned upon in Derry. 

Slowly though it got better. Michelle introduced him to her friends, and soon they became his friends too. He learnt to read between the lines when it came to his Irish relatives and their curt words. Like Michelle for example, sure she was brash, harsh and rude, and sure she called him various variations of 'dickhead' more often then she called him by his actual name. But when push came to shove, she had his back. 

The only one allowed to call him an English prick was her, and boy would she have words with whoever tried to make themselves an exception to that rule.

Then there was his Aunt Deirdre. On first glance she was a harsh, no nonsense kind of woman, and while that was true to an extent. (He had come to realise that living decades in the crossfire of a civil war necessitated growing a thick skin.) She always seemed to sense when he was feeling a down, or a little homesick. She'd bring him a extra sweet cup of tea and a biscuit. Lingering for just a moment to brush an imaginary speck of dirt from his cheek. "Ach Jamie, the state of you." She would tut softly, and he'd feel a warmth in his chest. His and Michelle's Gran had always called him Jamie. 

He felt more love in that brief 3 seconds where her fingers rested gently on his cheek then he had in 15 years with his own mother. 

Uncle Martin had frightened him at first. A tall, dark haired man, with the hint of his age coming only in the peppering streaks of grey in his hair. Uncle Martin had the air of someone who had to fight for everything he had. It was intimidating to say the least, and when James had first been unceremoniously moved into the house, he'd felt like he had immediately over stayed his welcome, if indeed he'd ever been welcome at all. For in his heart, James knew to an extent, without his consent, and due to no fault of his own, he was the enemy. And now His Aunt and Uncle, who worked hard for the little they had, had to provide for him too. 

All because Deirdre's irresponsible little sister didn't get herself an abortion. 

It made James feel sick, so he tried not to think about it.

But Uncle Martin, though he was a quiet kind of man, always asked James how his day was. And when he got home from the night shift, James would bring him a cup of tea while he collapsed in a heap on the sofa in exhaustion and he'd pat James' hand lightly. "Thanks son. You're a good lad." He would say. 

And there was the night after his Mother had first dumped him in Derry. When Michelle had knocked on his bedroom door lightly, not waiting for a response to poke her head around the door. 'James,' She had whispered beckoning him over with her hand. 

'Michelle what are you -?' 

'Shh!' She whispered harshly. 'Be quiet. We're both in for it if they catch us.' Then she turned and started walking down the hall towards the stairs. Curiosity boiled over and quietly he followed after her. 

'Michelle what -'

'Shhh.' She interrupted again. Her voice was lower this time. Almost inaudible. 'They're talking about you.'

Suddenly he understood what they were doing.

They crept halfway down the stairs, sitting perched on the rough carpet. Side by side. Listening carefully as his Aunt and Uncles low voices drifted up from the kitchen, where he could picture them sitting at the kitchen table. 

'I just can't believe she did this. Her own son.' Uncle Martins voice sounded angry, and it made James shiver.

'Aye, I can. I'm just surprised she didn't do it sooner. Poor wee lad. Still, he's better off with us.'

'Of course he is. Did Cathy at least tell you why she was leaving?'

Aunt Deirdre scoffed. 'She said she needed some time by herself to "reassess" her life. Can you imagine?' 

'She should have left him with your Ma and Da when he was a baby, like she was supposed to.' 

James felt himself stiffen at that. He and Michelle shared a look of shock. 

'Aye, Ma begged her too as well. Broke her heart when Cathy changed her mind, it did. She knew Cathy was no mother.' 

James felt his heart race at this new information as images of a life he could of had flashed before his eyes. An Irish life, raised with his whole family. Not just his distance Mother and his Step-Dad in a townhouse in London.

'Well he's here now.' Uncle Martin said.

'And if Cathy never comes back for him?' Aunt Deirdre asked softly.

'He's here now.' Uncle Martin repeated firmly. 'He's one of ours now.'

'Aye, that he is.' 

His vision went blurry as his eyes misted over at the sudden feeling that exploded in his heart. Was this what it felt like to be wanted? 

Michelle dug an elbow into his ribs and nodded back up the stairs.

They were both silent until they got to the very top of the stairs. 

'I guess I'm stuck with you now huh?' Michelle whispered with a knowing smile. 

'I guess so.' He whispered back while pretending to rub his eyes but really wiping away a stray tear. 

Michelle rolled her eyes but didn't say anything about him crying. 

'Welcome home.' She said punching his arm lightly.

It wasn't London.

And his Aunt and Uncle certainly weren't anything like his Mother and Step-Father.

Somehow though, it felt right in a way nowhere ever had before. 

Ireland.

Derry.

Home.

It certainly had a nice ring to it.


End file.
